Author & Illustrator
by samuraistar
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a song. It was heard by a writer and an artist at the same time. The artist was inspired to draw beautiful pictures of a girl she didn't remember. The writer tried to figure out why.
1. Pas de Duck

Hey, everybody! samuraistar is BAAAAAAAACK with another story!

Okay, I wrote this a year or two ago after seeing Princess Tutu all the way through (once or twice, cough-cough) but never got around to uploading it (I think I got distracted by stuff). Anyway, I'm going through a dry spell right now, so I'm hoping this will wake up my inner muse. I'm trying to get her to help me start working on Wreck-It Ralph.

Yes, I'm just now getting into Wreck-It Ralph, two years later. :S My inner fangirl marches to her own beat. I've been watching it nonstop since I got the DVD and yes, I ship the crap out of Hero's Cuties! (That's what I'm trying to work on)

I'd also like to explain that the song I use throughout the story is one I was hooked on at the time I wrote it, so if you don't like the song, you should just turn right around now. If not, then please come on in!

So without any further of my usual ado, (I talk WAY too much) here is my one and only Princess Tutu story! Hope you enjoy it!

DISCLAIMER: Nothing here is owned by me! You hear me? NOTHING!

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_"Now everybody get out! Because I am having cereal!" - _Winston Bishop, _New Girl_, season 1

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**Chapter 1: Pas de Duck**  
_If I die young, bury me in satin  
Lay me down on a bed of roses  
Sink me in the river at dawn  
Send me away with the words of a love song_

Fakir glanced up from his tablet from his place on the dock of his lakehouse; the little duck so near and dear to his heart was dancing happily on the shore, pouring all her ballet training into the expression of her delight at the song they were hearing on the old-fashioned radio. He loved seeing how happy she looked when she danced; it made him smile all the time and inspired his writing. It seemed like such a long time since he'd swept her off her feet at the bottom of the lake. Even though Drosselmeyer had named it the Lake of Despair, it turned out to be the place where Duck and Fakir had found the strength to rescue and support the prince they both cared about; through their feelings for him and for each other, they had enabled him to regain his true self and become the champion for his princess. Fakir could only imagine how hard it must have been for Duck to let him go like that and it made his heart ache in her behalf. Partly from the original story and partly from what she'd told him herself, he knew how much she loved Mytho and the agony she must have gone through as she shouldered the burden of her role as Princess tutu.

_'That story's over now,'_ he thought as he took a look at his paper, _'It's time to start a new one.'_ He turned his chair to face Duck so he could watch her while he wrote.

"Quack!" the little duck said as she fluttered over to him, "Quack, quack!" She raised her wings overhead, twirled them around each other, and held one out to Fakir in the ballet's invitation to dance. He chuckled.

"I'd love to," he said warmly as he stood up and made a sweeping ballet-style bow.

What neither of them knew was that while the song inspired them to dance, it was inspiring someone else as well—someone with a kind heart and imaginative talent, a promising student at the palatial academy in Gold Crown Town.

An art student.

The melody and its bittersweet lyrics put images in her mind that were beautiful yet somewhat different from the song's intended message; nevertheless, she knew when her gift was at work inside of her, and she always obeyed its command. It was part of what made her such a good artist.

Heeding its call once again, Malen stopped what she was working on, turned to a blank page on her large sketchpad, and began to draw.

_'Lay me down on a bed of roses,'_ she thought as she drew rose after rose after rose.

* * *

In the magical land of stories, where the heroes go to have their Happily Ever Afters, Princess Rue opened her eyes with excitement.

"It's working," she breathed and turned to her beloved prince, "Mytho, your Dream Charm is working!"

"That's wonderful!" he smiled and held her hands, "I knew it would work!"

"Tell me, my love," said Rue, "How is…" She looked around and lowered her voice carefully. "How is the project coming along?"

"Very well," he said understandingly, "Once it is finished in Gold Crown, it will be exactly as it is here." Rue nodded.

"And Clara?" she asked, "She's treating…it…with care? I don't mean to question her or anything, it's just…"

"I know," he said and fondly touched her face, "You're right to be worried. It's a delicate matter. Come." He took her hand. "There's nothing more to be done for now. The rest is up to them."

"Yes," she nodded again, "I just hope it works."

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**Author's Review**  
Oooh! What are Mytho and Rue up to? And how does it involve Malen?

My favorite minor characters are going to come into play a lot here, whether they're important to the story or not. You'll see them later.

So what do you think so far? Am I impressing anybody? Am I drawing anyone in? Do I really care? (LOL Of course I care!) Either way, I'm still going to upload this because I want to. Sorry the first chapter was so short, but it'll get better, I promise.

See y'all next chapter!


	2. Work in Progress

I started typing as soon as the first chapter was up, so pardon me for the lack of shout-outs.

This one will be longer, I promise, and will involve a lot of dreaming and talking and plot laying. I'm going on the concept that Fakir's writing gift is still raw and less controllable than he'd like it to be, so the story might not make sense in some areas (in which case all questions are welcome), but it'll be good for what it is.

And the lyrics to the song I used in the first chapter are spread pretty thin through the story, but I'll also include other classical music pieces, in keeping with the original show.

Hope you like this!

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_"Dance like no one is watching."_ – Pinterest

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**Chapter 2: Work in Progress**  
When the last rose was drawn, Malen sat back for a moment and took a good look at what she had created so far. It was beautiful.

Another image came to her mind and she turned to the next blank page to the do some experimental doodles before choosing which one would go on the final product.

_"Ain't even gray, but she buries her baby,"_ she murmured the words to the song she'd heard earlier. That line indicated the untimely death of someone very young. She started doodling girls' faces until she drew one whose eyes were closed peacefully. For some reason, Malen gave her somewhat messy hair. The look on her face wasn't just peaceful, though; it also reflected the bittersweet transition from life to death. She had tears creeping from under her eyelashes!

_"The sharp knife of a short life."_ Malen gave the head a body with the hands crossed in front in a low position; she didn't know she was drawing the ballet mime for death. She only knew she was drawing according to her heart. After adding a long coiling braid to the hair, Malen stared wondrously at the girl she'd just drawn, a lovely young girl who hadn't wanted to die so young, but who left the world with love.

"You're the one," she said quietly, "but I don't believe that you've died. It doesn't fit you." She sat back and thought for a moment. "Your image came to me from a song of death…but your life hasn't ended yet. That's not what I feel from you." Feeling another strike of inspiration, the young artist took her pencil to the paper, starting with lines and curves and shapes.

"I don't know where you came from," she said as her pencil raced over the pad, "but you are my drawing and this song will not be of your death. You will not die."

* * *

Some time ago, Fakir wrote a small story about Duck in which the two of them could spend time together in her dreams; she was human then, so it meant they could talk and dance. Fakir loved her no matter what, but he missed the sound of her voice and she missed using it, so after they talked about it in their own special way, he wrote the story and to their joy, it came true.

In tonight's dream, they were on a sidewalk some feet away from the lakeshore with flowers all along it. Duck was twirling as they walked with her arms out. She was wearing her school uniform and singing the song they'd heard earlier.

_"Lord, make me a rainbow,"_ she made her arms a circle and pirouetted, _"I'll shine down on my mother—_Quack!" She tripped over something and Fakir calmly grabbed one of her flailing arms.

"Even in dreams you're such a klutz," he said with an echo of his former severity. She laughed.

"You know, Fakir," she said as she walked beside him, "I was thinking about something today. I think you should finish your schooling in ballet."

"Why do you say that?" he asked in slight surprise.

"Because you love ballet," she said simply, "You're a terrific writer and I'm really happy that you live so close to me and that you write about me, but when I watch you dance, I can tell you miss the academy."

"I don't want to leave you," he said.

"You don't have to," she insisted, "Ducks and geese and other birds run around the grounds all the time! I'll just hang out in the ponds! You can see me anytime you want!"

"I'll think about it," he said after a moment, "but not until after I finish this story I started today."

"Really?" her eyes lit up with interest, "What's it about?"

"You, of course," he half-smiled as he took her hand and twirled her, "but this one's different. I was inspired by that song we heard today, but also…I feel the Drosselmeyer part of me working in this one." His face became shadowed and Duck noticed it; she knew how he felt about his ancestry. She remembered something he'd told her about him. She stood in front of him, bent over slightly, and made eye contact with him.

"Fakir," she said, "you told me once that Mr. Drosselmeyer told you to be reckless with your stories, to let your feelings guide you. I don't think you should be reckless, but I do think you should follow your feelings. I know how you feel about Mr. Drosselmeyer…" She cupped one of his hands in both of hers. "…but I also know how you feel about me. Every story you've ever written about me has had a happy ending; even though I got hurt by the crows, I was okay because you were the one writing my story." She smiled softly at him. "I believe in you, Fakir. I believe in your gift. Whatever way this story goes, I know it'll be all right." He msiled back at her and held her head.

"Dummy," he mumbled, covering his embarrassment. Duck giggled then slowly gasped. "Fakir!" she whispered, "Look!" She pointed behind him; he turned with a protective arm around her. A figure was gracefully dancing their way, a delicate figure in a white dress.

"Princess Tutu," Duck breathed wondrously.

"Why is she here?" Fakir mused.

"Well, it is a dream," she said, "Anything can happen in dreams. Let's talk to her!" She danced toward her other self until they both came to a graceful stop, standing with one foot behind the other. Princess Tutu circled her hands overhead, then swept one hand in a circle in front of her face. At the same time as the motions, she spoke their meaning.

"You dance beautifully, Ms. Duck," she said.

"Thank you, Princess," Duck curtsied to her, "Have you come to dance with us?"

"I'd love to," she replied as she lifted Duck's hand, "but first I must prepare you and strengthen you."

"Oh?" Duck blinked, "What for?" Tutu smiled tenderly at her.

"Do not fear, my friend," she said as she twirled her, "I am still a part of you, so I will always be with you." She looked over at Fakir and held out a hand. "Come, Fakir. Will you complete our cygnet?"

Fakir hesitated at first; just a dream, perhaps, but Princess Tutu obviously knew something that even he didn't. He had a sense it had something to do with Duck's new story and that worried him as he joined hands with the two girls: What did Duck need strength against? What was his writing going to do to her now and would he be able to protect her this time?

* * *

They danced together until dawn began to peek over the horizon. They all stopped and looked.

"Sunrise," Tutu observed and turned back to them, "It appears I must be going. Thank you for the dance. I have a few more things to say before I leave." She turned to Duck and held her hands again.

"Duck," she said, "I want you to remember: It will not be what it seems."

"What do you mean?" Duck asked. Tutu touched the girl's face with her eyes closed.

"You shall see," she murmured and turned to Fakir. "Do not fight your gift, Fakir. Though you do not see it now, it will work a miracle. No matter what you write, no matter what you see, it will not be what it seems." She bobbled a ballet curtsey and blew Duck a kiss as she faded in the sunrise like mist.

When Duck awoke in her true form, she felt exhausted.

_'Must've been all that dancing,'_ she thought as she stretched, _'A good swim will probably help.'_

"Well," said Fakir, "Looks like I've got work to do."

"Quack," she nodded. Fakir fed her some bread and took her out to the lake; after watching her for a while, he sat down and began to write the story he started yesterday. He glanced at its opening line.

_Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl who loved to dance._

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**Author's Review****:**  
And the story begins to unfold! Matter of fact, that'll be the title of the next chapter!

So, yeah: Reviews, please! Hope you liked it!


	3. The Story Begins

I'm back with another chapter! This one's a bit shorter, but I think you'll still like it!

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_"Forget it, man. This horse is whack! It's got poo-brain!"_ – Jake the Dog, _Adventure Time_

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**Chapter 3: The Story Begins**  
Fakir had followed Tutu's advice when she told him not to fight his gift; it combined with Duck's advice to follow his feelings when he wrote, confident that everything would turn out all right. Despite all this, he could hardly believe what he was writing!

_Even though the prince had already chosen another as his princess, they both treasured the little duck as a dear friend and, knowing that she loved to dance more than anything, began to search for a way to change her back into a human girl._

Fakir stopped. _'A human girl?'_ he thought perplexingly, _'With reality being restored to the town, is that even possible?'_ And just like the last time, he was able to include Mytho (now Prince Sigfried) in a Duck story! He often wondered what he and Rue were up to in the storybook kingdom he came from; now he wondered if this was it. Sensing the answer was in the story, he stopped wondering and continued writing.

_ Using all the knowledge and magic the prince possessed, they searched far and wide for someone with the power to bring this miracle to pass._

It was then that Fakir noticed the song from yesterday was on the radio again; this time, Duck just lingered by the dock so she wouldn't disturb him. It seemed to add a little something to his inspiration.

* * *

Malen stood back to see the dress she'd drawn on her girl: It was satin—or at least, she'd tried to make it _look_ like satin, as the song suggested. The sleeves were thin and fluttery and went halfway to her elbows. The neckline was square and not too low; the skirt flowed out in waves like water and a thin pink ribbon lined the waist, tied in a bow in the middle. Malen smiled gently at what she'd created.

_"And I'll be wearing white,"_ she recited, _"when I come into Your kingdom."_ Something was missing, she thought. The song called for pearls, but that didn't fit this particular image. Carefully Malen added an oval-shaped necklace with a shiny spot.

"There," she nodded, "That suits you much better."

Now that her subject was garbed, the artist felt ready to lay her down on her bed of roses. Having the song on her radio punctuated the moment perfectly.

* * *

_They had heard of a mysterious enchantress who had died long ago, but whose spirit now resided inside a child's doll._

"A possessed doll?" Fakir murmured as he wrote, "Where is this coming from?"

_No one remembered the name of the enchantress, but the doll's name was Clara. She had blue eyes, blonde ringlets, and a light blue dress. The princess danced with joy and beseeched the doll to use her magic to help their friend. Clara agreed and got to work. First she took an image from the princess' memories, a mental picture of the human girl she loved as her friend, and using it she started to create-_

Fakir dropped his pen. He'd seen the unbelievable before, but this was pushing the limits. It just wasn't possible! How could it be?

He put aside his writing for now and hoped Princess Tutu would make another appearance tonight; as far as he was concerned, she had some explaining to do. He stood up, jumped off the dock, waded through the water, and scooped Duck up in his arms. Duck was alarmed not at the gesture, but at his hands.

_'They're trembling,'_ she thought, _'Why is Fakir trembling?'_

"Quack?" she asked in concern.

"I'll be all right," he told her in a spooked voice, "I'm just confused."

"Quack," she said gently and leaned into him, trying to give him strength.

* * *

Unfortunately, Princess Tutu did not dance her way into Duck's dreams that night. Instead, Duck continued to dance her way into Fakir's troubled heart, more than a welcome distraction from the startling development of his story.

"Come on, Fakir!" she chimed on the shore, "Let's wade around in the lake!" She kicked off her shoes and pulled her socks off.

"You spend every day in that lake," he said, "Don't you get tired of it?"

"Of course not!" she smiled brightly, "I'm a duck!" She playfully kicked water at him; unable to resist her light, Fakir joined her in the fun. After a while they sat together on the shore with their feet in the water; suddenly something floated up from the depths, right at Duck's feet.

"Look," she blinked and picked up a lovely bouquet of white roses, "How pretty." She smelled them; they had a strong and beautiful fragrance despite having mysteriously bobbed up from the lake.

"Where did they come from?" Fakir wondered. He looked over at Duck, who had her lower face in the flowers with her eyes closed; the moonlight put a silver sheen on her pink hair and her eyelashes seemed dusted with starlight. He smiled.

"You may not be a prima ballerina," he said softly, "but you certainly inspire the poet in me." Her eyes opened and her cheeks turned red.

"Thank you, Fakir," she returned the soft smile, "You may not be a first knight, but you inspire the dancer in me." She picked a rose from the middle of the bouquet and gave it to him. "Besides," she added as she leaned on him, "Writers are more romantic, anyway." He chuckled and put his arm down behind her. For the rest of the dream they sat that way together until the dawn came to awaken them.

When Fakir awoke to find the little duck still snuggled in his neck, he noticed the scent of roses on her feathers. Feeling brave again, he immediately set to work, starting from where he'd cut off the last sentence.

_…and using it she started to create a body, the same body the duck had been in as a human._

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**Author's Review****:  
**I absolutely LOVE doing Fakir/Duck fluff! They're so adorable!

I don't have any references to talk about this time, (THAT'S unusual) so I'll just leave it here. Next chapter will be from Mytho and Rue's side of the story! ;)


	4. Knives & Roses

Hey, guys! I hope SOMEbody's enjoying this! Even if you're not, I'm still going to upload this because it's for me.

So this chapter involves a lot of plot development, so you might want to buckle up. Please enjoy and PLEASE review!

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_"There are shop boys and there are boys who happen to work in shops. And Tristan, you are no shop boy."_ – Claire Danes as Yvanne, _Stardust_

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**Chapter 4: Knives and Roses**  
Rue was very excited as she walked down the hallway to the special room; she had a beautiful bouquet from the Queen's royal garden.

_'White roses,'_ she thought happily as she breathed them in, _'Fit for a princess! She'll love these! I wonder what her favorite is?'_

"Mistress Clara," she called as she gently knocked on the door. She heard a sudden movement and something clattered to the floor.

"Come in," a young voice answered. Rue opened the door with a curious look; the doll-enchantress looked as flustered as she'd sounded.

"My princess," she smoothed her skirt and curtsied, "How lovely to see you again."

"Thank you," Rue curtsied back, "I brought some roses for Duck and I've ordered more to be placed around her. I thought it might be a nice surprise for her to match the image Miss Malen is drawing of her."

She walked over as she spoke; Clara was standing on a cushioned altar with a body lying on it in a flowing white dress. It was Duck's human body, exactly as rue remembered it, except it wasn't alive yet.

"She's beautiful, Mistress Clara," she smiled, "You've done such a wonderful job! She'll be so happy!"

"I'm flattered, Princess," Clara bowed, "and I'm honored to be of service to the Royal Family. Please excuse me." She jumped down and left the room. Rue laid the flowers on the body's stomach and moved the hands underneath them, one over the other. She looked down at the face, its eyes closed peacefully, and she touched the soft pink hair.

"Will you dance with me again, my friend?" she smiled tenderly, remembering their _pas de deux_ from her big dance-off with Anteaterina. Duck had been an awkward dancer, just a beginner, but she had bravely agreed to be her partner. Rue never thought she could love anyone but Mytho, yet she'd lay her life on the line for the first girl who'd ever shown her true friendship.

"I'll be back, Duck," she said and turned. As she did, her foot touched something. She looked down and saw a sharp silver knife.

_'A knife?'_ she thought as she stared at it. Was this the thing Clara had dropped? Was this the reason she had acted so flustered before?

She gasped in horror; a small feather was etched on the blade near the hilt! _A raven's feather!_ Rue looked fearfully at the precious, nearly-complete body. What was Clara planning to do to it?

"Your Highness?" said a maid with her arms full of white roses, "The flowers you requested." There were three more behind her, also laden with the roses.

"Thank you, Giselle," Rue breathed with relief, "You may proceed with the arrangement and um…if you'll please place some guards at the door, I'd be most grateful."

"As you wish, my princess," Giselle curtsied. Feeling better that there were people in the room, Rue ran out in a hurry.

_'I must find Mytho at once!'_ she thought dreadfully, _'If Clara's using something with a raven's feather, it could only mean one thing!'_

* * *

"Duck!" Fakir exclaimed as he jumped off the dock, "Duck, wake up!" He lifted her out of the water; Duck coughed and spluttered and shook the water out of her feathers. She was famous for falling asleep while swimming, but this time she took too long to pop her head back up and nearly drowned herself.

"Quack," she whined. She had dark circles under her eyes, which you wouldn't think was possible for a duck, and she looked like she hadn't slept for days despite having just woken up! She looked terrible!

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "My writing is doing this to you."

"Quack," she said. She touched the side of her head.

"Remember?" he guessed the mime. Duck tapped her forehead twice then twirled her wings around each other.

"Dance," he murmured, "Wait—Princess Tutu?"

"Quack," she nodded. He took a moment to piece it together.

"Remember what Princess Tutu said?" he finally guessed. Duck quacked and nodded again.

"She said not to fear my gift," he reflected, "and that it wouldn't be what it seemed."

"Quack," she said. She held up one wing facing inward and with the other pretended to write. The message was clear: _Keep writing._

"I will," he nodded, "but if you don't mind, I'm keeping you with me. You need rest and I don't want you to drown."

"Quack." She curled up and laid in his lap while he continued to write.

* * *

"Will you two please be quiet?" Autor snapped from his desk haven in the library. He straightened a stack of papers and walked off to another part. "Silly lovers and their silly young love," he muttered, "Honestly."

He started going around the main floor, collecting books that other students and been too lazy to put back on the shelves. As he went, his thoughts turned back to his distant relative, Fakir. He kept touch once in a while; he seemed to be doing well. Autor knew now that Duck had truly been a duck all along and though it had perplexed him at first, he now understood Fakir's decision to live near her.

Eventually he drifted over to some tables by the windows. He picked up a book and caught something white in the corner of his eye. He glanced up to be faced with a large paper rectangle—a sketch pad. He peeked around and saw a girl with pale hair and glasses drawing intently with a look of concentration on her face. She saw him and stopped.

"Oh, Mr. Autor," she said quietly, "Am I disturbing anything?"

"No," he said as he straightened up, "I was merely curious. You're Malen, the art student, right?"

"Yes, I am," she looked surprised, "How did you know?"

"Your drawing of the lake grounds is on the wall by the door," he answered practically, "I was here when they hung it up and honored you for it. It's undoubtedly the best landscape pencil drawing I've seen yet."

"Thank you," she smiled, "I'm glad it was so well-received." Autor was standing with his back to her left now at a table. He retrieved another book and as he turned around, he just happened to glance at her sketch. He did a double take.

"What's that?" he asked, stepping behind her.

"It's a work in progress," she answered as she drew, "I heard a song and it inspired me."

Autor stared at the drawing with wide eyes; Malen didn't notice.

"Do you know these two people?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Well, the girl strikes me as very familiar," she said thoughtfully, "but no matter how hard I try, I just can't remember. It's strange, though; I didn't plan to put the boy in, but it sort of came to me through the song: _There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever."_

"Miss Malen," Autor interrupted, "I don't mean to alarm you, but I must ask you to come with me and bring your sketch pad with you."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, worried.

"I sincerely hope not," he said, "but it could be important. Please come with me." Malen closed her pad, put her pencil in her bag, and followed Autor with the big pad under her arm.

_'If this is coincidence,'_ Autor thought, _'then I'm a monkey's uncle!'_

* * *

While she slept in Fakir's lap, Duck had a dream.

She was Princess Tutu again, dancing to her heart's content on the lake shore. The song she currently loved was playing for her.

_A penny for my thoughts  
Oh, no—I'll sell 'em for a dollar  
They're worth so much more  
after I'm a goner_

Right at the edge of the shore, she spotted another bouquet of white roses.

"How lovely," she said as she picked them up, "They're just like the roses I found last night." She then saw something approaching over the water.

"A boat," she observed. She watched it drift toward her until it slid up on the sand. Tutu looked inside and gasped.

"But that's me!" she exclaimed. Her normal girl body was lying in the boat, facing the prow in bare feet and a white dress, surrounded by white roses exactly like the ones Tutu was holding!

"What does this mean?" her voice shook, "These flowers…am I going to die? If it isn't what it seems, then what _is_ it?" She gave a small gasp and dropped her flowers as she fell to her knees.

"I feel weak," she said as she sank to the ground, "I must wake up. I must!"

* * *

Fakir never told Duck the stories he wrote about her until they were done because they always came true, so he didn't have to until after the fact. This one was the longest since the battle with the Raven, but this time his voice wasn't in her head. Something inside him forbade him from telling her about this one in particular. He wanted to, but it was as if something had gotten a hold of him; he was physically unable to tell her directly about this dangerous yet incredible story.

But he stopped cold when his precious duck woke up and started quacking in a weak-voiced yet distressed manner.

"Come on." He stood up with her in one arm and his pad under the other. "We're going inside."

"Quack," she sounded emotional, wishing she could properly tell him how scared she was. But she also knew it was important for him to keep writing, no matter what.

"What the-?" Fakir stopped, "Duck, look who's here."

"Quack?" She looked up and saw two people she knew walking toward the lake house.

_'Malen and Autor!'_ she thought happily. Autor spotted them.

"Fakir!" he said and ran to them, "I'm glad I caught you." He looked at the duck in his arm. Fakir instinctively held her slightly closer, as if protecting her from all the world.

"Is this her?" Autor asked. Fakir nodded.

"She can understand you, too," he added. Autor leaned over to talk to her.

"Ms. Duck," he said, "Do you remember me?"

"Quack," she nodded. Just then, Malen joined them.

"You both remember Ms. Malen, don't you?" Autor indicated her.

"You're the art student, right?" said Fakir. She nodded and he added, "I remember you had a heart shard with you."

"I'm sorry," she said, "I only vaguely remember that."

"Don't worry," said Autor, "That's beside the point, anyway. I'm sorry to intrude, Fakir, but we must impose on your hospitality. Ms. Malen has been working on something that will be of interest to you and Ms. Duck."

"Really," said Fakir, "Come inside, then. I'll make some tea."

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**Author's Review****:**  
So now the plot is beginning to thicken and the chess pieces are coming into play! I hope I haven't confused anybody so far, and I really hope y'all enjoy this with me! Please review and regard me kindly!


	5. Body Snatchers

I was so happy to get a Review/Favorite/Follow that it gave me the courage to update! LOL

As you know, the plot is thickening like a delicious beef stew and all the characters have come into play! Now the saga continues!

By the way, the name Hilarion is from the ballet _Giselle._

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_"Your life is like __**Gossip Girl**__, only everybody's old and poor."_ – Sarah, _New Girl_

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**Chapter 5: Body Snatchers**  
"So, Fakir," Autor said as he put down his tea, "Are you writing again?"

"Is this relevant to your visit?" Fakir responded. He still wasn't entirely comfortable around his distant cousin.

"It just might be," the cousin said in his mysteriously pompous manner, "Ms. Malen? Would you please show Mr. Fakir what you've brought?"

"Sure," she nodded and stood up with Duck in her arms. She didn't quite understand the small bird's attachment to her, but she enjoyed the attention. She gently put her on the table, pat her on the head, and walked over to her closed sketch pad resting on an easel.

"Um," she said, "I heard a song recently that's been playing for a while now and it inspired me to draw this."

She lifted the cover and turned some pages.

"These were experimental sketches," she explained, "and this is the final product."

She flipped to the next page.

* * *

As it turned out, Prince Sigfried had an eight-year-old brother that was his spitting image, except he had clear blue eyes.

"Hilarion?" Rue said, "Have you seen Mytho—I mean Sigfried?"

"Yes!" he smiled brightly, "Come!" He grabbed her hand and led her over the lawns to where Mytho was giving a ballet lesson to some of the servants' children.

"Sigfried!" called the younger prince, "I've brought Princess Rue! She wants to see you!"

"Oh, Rue!" Mytho smiled, "Thank you, Hilarion!" He put down the small girl he was currently holding. "Good work, everyone," he said to them all, "Why don't we all take a break now?"

"Okay!" they all chimed and bowed and curtsied to their princes and princess before scampering off to play. Mytho's brother also bowed gallantly and followed the other children.

"Mytho, I think we've made a mistake," Rue said urgently, getting right to the point.

"What do you mean?" he looked surprised and concerned.

"It's Clara!" she lowered her voice, fearful that she might be overheard, "I think she's going to do something to Duck's body!"

* * *

Fakir leapt to his feet and Duck flapped her wings and quacked, both floored with shock.

The picture was of Duck in her normal human form! She was wearing a flowing white dress, holding a bouquet of white roses, and was surrounded by more of them! She was lying down with her bare feet toward the front and she was in a diagonal position to allow a view of the blanketed altar she was on. Her eyes were closed peacefully, like Sleeping Beauty, and to tap it off, the heart shard Drosselmeyer had given her as a token of her participation in his story, the strange blood-red jewel that had split her identity in three, was resting on her chest on a gold chain.

And that wasn't even half of it! One of her hands—her left one—was being held and kissed by a handsome young man in a white frilly shirt and a regal gold-stitched vest. He had wild dark hair.

It was Fakir!

"My reaction precisely," Autor said calmly.

"I don't understand," said Fakir.

"I don't, either," said Malen a bit nervously, "It just came to me. It's as if the picture itself demanded to be drawn. I don't even remember her."

"It doesn't matter," said Autor, "What matters is the connection between that picture and your story, Fakir. You _are_ writing, I presume?"

"What makes you so sure?" Fakir glared at him. Autor gave him that creepy, condescending look.

"Nothing like this _ever_ happens in this town unless a Drosselmeyer is at work," he said, "And you are most definitely a Drosselmeyer."

_"Quack!"_ Duck squawked angrily and bit him on the hand!

_'Don't you dare pick on Fakir like that!'_ she wanted to yell at him. But all she got out was "Quack, quack-quack, _quack!_" and flapping her wings.

"Hmph," Autor sniffed while nursing his hand, "Still his loyal protector, I see. No matter what form you take, you'll always defend him, won't you?"

_"Quack!"_ She pointed at him as if to say, "And don't you forget it!"

"Leave him alone, Duck," Fakir said as he approached with his writing tablet, "He has a point." He looked at Autor. "I _am_ writing a story. It's about Duck, like all the others."

* * *

"A raven's feather?" Mytho was shocked, "Are you sure?"

"Trust me," Rue said wretchedly, "I recognize those feathers when I see them."

"But if it's Clara's…" he said, "You're certain it was hers?"

"I heard her drop something," she recalled, "When I went in, she wasn't holding anything. The only thing I saw was that knife."

"Then we can no longer trust Clara," he narrowed his eyes.

"Were we wrong to trust her in the first place?" Rue asked fearfully.

"I don't know," he shook his head, "but we can't accuse her without proof. We have to catch her in the act."

"What if she's in the act right now?" she gasped.

"Come on," Mytho said as she grabbed her hand and ran, "We'll check the room and see if she's there."

* * *

"Are you going to let us read it?" asked Autor.

"Not you." Fakir placed the pad on the tablet in front of Malen. "Her."

"Me?" Malen said, "But why? I understand the least of anyone here!"

"Read the story," he prompted, "and it'll start to make sense. We'll fill you in on the rest. Autor?"

He followed him and Duck (who was being carried again because of her exhaustion) to the hallway.

"What is it, Fakir?" he said lowly.

"I know we don't see eye to eye on much of anything," said Fakir, "but I haven't forgotten how you helped us in the last story, when you saved me from the last Bookman. I might need that help again. I'm not sure when, but something's going to happen and when it does, I'll need you to protect Duck and Malen."

"Duck I understand," Autor nodded, "but why Malen? What's her role in this story?" They all looked at her quietly reading the story.

"Every author has an illustrator," said Fakir, "The moment I saw that drawing I knew I'd found mine. I don't know who she's descended from, but there's no doubt in my mind: Malen is the illustrator of my stories."

* * *

Mytho and Rue burst into the rom to find Mistress Clara standing on Duck's stomach holding that same knife over her head, ready to plunge it into the chest!

"_Clara!_" the prince said sharply, "What are you doing?" Not waiting for an answer, he rushed to the altar and grabbed the doll up in both hands, pinning her arms to her sides as the knife clattered to the floor, giving off the same sound Rue had heard earlier.

"What were you doing with that knife?" he demanded, "Answer your prince!"

"The body is complete, my prince," she said innocently, "All that remains is for me to enter it."

"Enter?" Mytho repeated perplexingly, "That body does not belong to you! It belongs to someone very precious to us! We told you that!"

"Wait! What are you doing?" Clara exclaimed at Rue, who had sat the body up with one hand and the other holding an arm.

"We commissioned you to make this body for our dear friend," said Mytho, "Whatever dark magic you were about to use, it will not be used here—not on this body and not in my castle!"

"I need a human body, my prince," she said, "My powers will not work to their fullest unless I am flesh and blood."

"Then make your own body," Rue spoke up, now holding the body bridal style, "Leave Duck to us."

"And leave my kingdom." Mytho dropped the doll and drew his sword on her. "You attempted to steal the creation we paid you to create. You have betrayed our rust and you are banished forthwith. Gather your things, take the treasure we've paid you, and go."

_"I am not packed off as easily as that, Prince."_ Clara's voice turned hard and severe. Mytho and Rue turned their hands back at the door. The doll now lay on the floor as inanimate as the day she was made. Above it was the spirit of a beautiful woman who looked like she was in her forties when she died. She had olive skin, long black hair that fluffed out in waves, and chocolate brown eyes. She wore a red ballet dress of a flimsy translucent skirt that ghosted out on the sides with its fringes floating like tentacles and the top had a scooped neckline and slightly puffy sleeves.

Before she could do anything, Mytho got himself and Rue out of the room and locked it.

"At least we've delayed her," he said, "Here." He took the body from her. "Follow me." As they ran, he ordered everone out of the royal guest house.

"Sigfried!" his small brother met them outside, "What's going on in there?"

"Hilarion!" said Mytho, "Go inside and tell Father to put the castle on lockdown! And tell Mother not to worry! Rue and I are going on a small trip."

"Yes, brother!" he nodded. Never one to forget his manners, he bowed to Rue again before running inside the main castle to deliver the Crown Prince's orders.

"Do you remember where we said we'd take her when it was done?" Mytho asked as they ran toward the forest.

"Yes," she panted, keeping close to him, "but will she be safe?"

"Don't worry," he answered, "My mother lived there before she met Father. Her magic is the strongest I've ever seen. Once Duck is secure, I'll go back hom and fight Clara!"

"I'll go with you!" she said as they ran up a hill sloping down to a lake.

"No, Rue," he said, "I need you to stay with Duck. She'll need your extra protection, especially when she wakes up!"

POW! A gunshot rang out that made them drop down on the other side of the hill. Mytho shielded both girls.

"What was _that?_" Rue burst out.

"Stay down," Mytho covered her head and crept uphill. Rue held onto Duck, her heart pounding hard enough for both of them. She tried to steady her breathing and clear her head when she heard Mytho gasp. She looked up at him.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"They're soldiers," he murmured in amazement, "Toy soldiers!"

* * *

**Author's Review****:**  
Just to clear something up, The Raven is not actually involved in this story. I'm just using his feathers as a universal symbol of evil magic.

And in case you're wondering, I will be using the song "If I Die Young" all throughout the story in bits and pieces. It's basically the theme of the whole story, probably because I was watching _Princess Tutu_ at the time I discovered the song, so…sorry. If you don't like the song, either ignore it or read something else.

Oh, and Clara's evil voice is the same as the chick narrator from the series. ^_^

Stay tuned for the next chapter, when one more character comes to throw in her two bits! ;)


	6. March of the Toys

Thanks for the reviews so far! This one's a bit longer, but please bear with me! It's gonna be awesome!

And if anyone's confused, the Mytho perspective is pretty much happening at the same time Fakir's writing it…sort of.

* * *

_"I am Sumomo! It's very nice to meet you!"_ - Sumomo, _Chobits_

* * *

**Chapter 6: March of the Toys  
**Malen looked up from her reading.

"Toy soldiers," she said, "Just like The Nutcracker!" She stood up. "Mr. Fakir," she called, "this story is wonderful! My heart is pounding right along with the princess! You must finish it!"

She walked to him holding out his tablet.

"You write," she smiled and placed it in his hands, "I'll draw." Fakir nodded in agreement and together the author and his illustrator sat down at the table and set to their work. Duck and Autor watched them for a moment from the hall doorway.

"Well, Ms. Duck?" he said, "What are _we_ going to do?" Duck touched her bill thoughtfully.

"Quack!" she smiled and beckoned for him to follow her. He obeyed after letting the other two know. Duck waddled slowly because of her fatigue taking its toll on her. She led him to a small library a few doors down.

"Quack." She fluttered onto the only table, one of Fakir's many writing spots with paper, pens, ink pots, and an old oil lamp radiating light on its own. It brightened when Duck approached it. She quacked again and nudged a handmade book toward Autor, a bunch of paper threaded together with a leather cord.

"Fakir wrote this?" he said. Duck quacked proudly. "Well," he said, looking at the book, "I suppose this will keep me occupied." He sat down and began to read while Duck danced in the soft, affectionate glow of the lamp.

* * *

"Toy soldiers?" Rue repeated in a whisper, "What do you mean?"

"Look," said Mytho, "but be careful." After gently releasing Duck's body, Rue crawled uphill on her stomach; the prince put his arm around her to keep her close. She slowly raised her head up next to his and gasped.

An army of old-fashioned toy soldiers was in formation at the bottom of the hill with their muskets held closely at their sides. They stood erect and silent and faceless.

"Do you think Clara made them?" Rue asked softly.

"No doubt," Mytho murmured, "but we can't possibly defeat them all. Our only chance is to get to the safe place."

"But how can we get away?" she asked, "The minute they see us, they'll start shooting!"

Mytho was about to reply when they heard a faint rhythmic rapping from behind the army; each soldier turned right on his heel to see and Mytho and Rue cautiously peeked down. Once again, Rue gasped with shock and covered her mouth.

"Uzura!" she breathed. Between the rear of the army and the forest behind it, Uzura was standing all alone, playing her drum! Rue wasn't sure if she knew the three of them were there or not, but she _was_ sure that Uzura was in grave danger!

"What does she think she's doing?" the princess asked fearfully.

"Providing us with a distraction," Mytho answered as he wriggled backwards, taking her with him, "Come on."

"What about Uzura?" she said.

"Rue, this may be our only chance to get away," said Mytho, "Besides…" He smiled. "I have a feeling she's not in quite as much danger as it seems. Come now, quick!"

The two of them scooted down to where Duck was; Mytho scooped her up and scooted further down until they were far enough to jump up and run for it, leaving sweet little Uzura at the mercy of Clara's army. One soldier in a light blue uniform hopped over to her, since his feet were stuck to a base. He had no mouth, but he had a voice.

"Child," he asked, mesmerized, "What manner of toy art thou?"

"Toy?" she paused, "Uzura's a puppet, zura! What are you, zura?"

"I am the captain of Mistress Clara's regiment," he said formally, "We are her faithful army of toy soldiers."

"Ohh," she said in awe, "What are you doing, zura?"

"We are in pursuit of Prince Sigfried and Princess Rue," he answered importantly.

"Why?"

"Because Mistress Clara has commanded it."

"But they're my friends, zura!" she piped innocently.

"Then we shall take you into custody as a prisoner!" he declared, "Surround her, men!"

A few soldiers circled her but she lifted her drumsticks and played the famous rhythm: _Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Parrrrrrrrrum-bum._ The next thing the soldiers knew, they were marching to the March of the Toys suite from _The Nutcracker_, bewitched by the child puppet's drum.

"Let's go this way, zura," she said casually, like nothing was happening. She led them into the forest one way as Mytho and Rue escaped along a river another way. They ran through a golden barley field until they saw a lone willow tree on their left with its roots dipping into the water like toes.

"There it is," Mytho nodded to an ornate wooden boat moored to the tree. They hurried to it and got in. Mytho handed Rue the body so he could undo the rope.

"Just head for the island, Rue," he said, "and stay with Duck, no matter what!"

"Please be careful, Mytho!" she said. He smiled and kissed her tenderly.

"Don't worry," he touched her face, "I'll be fine. I promise I'll take care of Uzura." He shoved the boat off; Rue watched him standing on the shore and did the "I love you" mime, which he returned before turning back into the barley. The princess smiled, proud of his bravery, and looked down at Duck's body.

"It's okay, Duck," she leaned over her, "I'll absolutely keep you safe."

The magic boat glided smoothly over the lake unaided, cutting a gentle swath through the lilies that covered the water surrounding the island that held Duck's safe place, the queen's marble tower. Caught up in its beauty, Rue didn't notice the heart inside the lifeless body when it gave a very faint thump.

* * *

Back in the lakehouse, Duck collapsed on the floor, where she had been dancing.

"Ms. Duck!" Autor sprang to his feet and knelt by her. Her tiny chest slowly moved in and out as she lay on her side with her eyes closed. Knowing neither her condition nor the reason behind it, Autor was very much alarmed!

"Ms. Duck, are you all right?" he called, "Can you hear me?" She replied with a weak quack. He could see fear in her pretty blue eyes.

"Do you want me to get Fakir?" he asked her gently. After thinking for a moment, she nodded. Autor immediately bolted from the room, calling for Fakir. Duck closed her eyes and saw Princess Tutu reaching down to her.

* * *

Let us now follow the brave and handsome prince on his quest to rescue Uzura from Clara's mechanical army of toys. His plan formed as he pursued them: Uzura had given them the distraction they needed to get away, whether she knew it or not; now he would return the favor.

He quickly jumped backwards and slipped behind a tree; he was several feet away from the rear of the army! Making sure he was unseen, he pirouetted rapidly with his sword overhead and called forth his Flower Waltz; he had it fly him over them and then he jumped and flipped while waving his sword. The flowers flew wildly all around, blinding the soldiers as Mytho landed on one knee beside Uzura.

"Ohh!" she gasped wondrously.

"Hello, Uzura," the prince smiled and offered his hand, "Will you come fly with me?"

* * *

Fakir burst into the library, fell to his knees, and gathered the frail bird into his arms.

"Talk to me, Duck," he murmured with his eyes closed, "Are you all right?"

She stirred and looked up at him.

"Fa…kir."

He looked shocked at her. He distinctly heard her speak his name! He could only attribute it to Drosselmeyer's ability to speak with his own characters, but he couldn't worry about that right now. Autor stayed in the dining room with Malen.

"Duck?" he said. Her eyes were tearing up.

"I'm scared, Fakir," she said weakly with a wavering voice, "I can feel the change happening."

* * *

"Where are we going, zura?" Uzura asked as she hung onto Mytho's leg. The flowers were flying them away from the toys as they tried to retaliate.

"I want to send you on a journey," Mytho answered, "You must find Fakir."

"Fakir, zura?"

"Yes," he nodded, "You must find him and take him to where Duck is."

"Duck is here, zura?" she popped, "Where is she, zura?"

* * *

"How did you know about that?" Fakir asked.

"Princess Tutu told me," Duck answered, "She's with me now, holding me just as you are."

"I'm sorry, Duck," he said intensely as he held her closely, "Can you ever forgive me for putting you through this?"

"Just keep writing," she said, "and please don't let go of me. I want to be with you all the way."

"You always are," he cradled her head and wept, "and you always will be."

* * *

"Here." Mytho handed her the exact necklace Duck used to wear.

"Is it a heart shard, zura?" she asked.

"No," he said, "It's a magic ruby. When you find Fakir, it will guide you to Duck, understand?" She nodded.

"Where are _you_ going, zura?" she asked.

"I must defeat the witch who created that army of toys," he said.

"Okay," she replied, "Do your best, zura!"

"I will," he nodded, "Safe journey, Uzura." He cupped a flower in his hands and held it up to his face with his eyes closed; he blew it out and spread his arms out. Petals danced on a warm wind that whisked the small puppet girl off the flowers, above and along the river. She exclaimed her excitement and played her drum as she floated away with the ruby strung on its front.

* * *

Fakir dropped his pen and jumped from his chair.

"Autor," he said urgently, "We're about to have company!"

The two boys and Malen ran out to the lake and stood on the shore.

"Fakir," Duck whispered in his arms. Fakir turned away, sensing that the end was near.

"Are you still afraid, Duck?" he asked, cradling her tiny body.

"Not anymore," she whispered, "I'm never afraid with you, Fakir." She took as deep a breath as she could. "Save me a dance, okay?"

"Every one," he smiled through his tears. He kissed her gently on her head and held her. "I'll see you later, Duck," he whispered.

"See you later," she breathed her last, "Fakir."

His heart froze when he felt her body go limp; even though it was only part of the story, just the similitude of her death terrified the young man like nothing ever had before, and he felt an echo of the traumatic grief he'd felt for his parents.

But before he could be tempted to give in to these feelings of despair, he heard another voice calling his name loud and long—a younger, familiar voice accompanied by the rat-a-tat rhythm of a drum! It was coming from the sky!

He raised his head just as Autor intercepted, caught, and turned around holding Uzura!

* * *

High in the queen's tower on the beautiful island in the middle of the Lily Lake, in a chamber all alone, Duck's human body was lying on a white queen-size bed with gossamer curtains, surrounded and crowned by white roses like the bouquet on her stomach. The room was full of candlelight with one window facing south.

In this near-holy chamber, Duck the human girl took her first long, slow breath of new life and half-opened her eyes for a brief moment before falling into a deep comfortable sleep.

* * *

**Author's Review****:**  
Just a heads up: I'm going to do this perspective switch thing the whole time, so get used to it.

Okay, the Lily Lake is a cross reference to _The Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ (the book) and _The Lady of Shalott_, which I think is by Tennyson.

Autor's role in this story is going to be pretty epic…at least, compared to how he was in the series.

That's all I've got so far; stay tuned, 'cause I'm super-excited for the next chapter! IT'S GONNA BE SO FLIPPIN' AWESOME!


	7. Dazed and Confused

I'm really excited to get this chapter going, so we'll just skip the jibber-jabber and get right down to it.

* * *

_"No, Mei Mei. It's time to wake up."_ – Simon Tam, _Firefly_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Dazed and Confused**  
Autor stared with amusingly wide eyes at the puppet he held in his hands. She stared back at him silently.

"Hey!" she piped, "I remember you, zura!" Fakir came over just then.

"Welcome back, Uzura," he smiled.

"Fakir!" she jumped down, "Mytho sent me to find you, zura!"

"I see," he said, not surprised, "Did he tell you how we're supposed to reach his kingdom?"

"He gave me this ruby, zura," she held up her drum, "He said it'll help us find Duck, zura!" Fakir looked at the tiny duck in his arm, newly deceased, looking so small and helpless.

"Before we go," he said, "there's something I have to do." He knelt by the lakeshore and laid the duck down on her back. He went into the house, came back out with his tablet and pen, and wrote.

His writings created a bunch of white roses that sprang from thin air to surround the duck's body; more and more appeared until she was completely covered with them. A light shone from underneath and the light form of a beautiful swan spread its wings and took flight into the sky toward the sun. When the roses blew away, the duck was gone. Malen sang a line from the song that inspired her.

_So put on your best, boys  
and I'll wear my pearls  
What I never did is done_

"Keep shining, my swan," Fakir murmured, "Shine so no matter what, I will surely find you."

* * *

The first thing she was aware of on her climb back to consciousness was soft warmth, absolute physical comfort. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this good. She could probably stay here forever, but she kept going on her journey to the waking world. The first time had been a fluke, an instinctive reflex of someone who was totally out of it. This time she would arrange her focus, line up her senses, and get a grip on herself. This time she would wake up.

And she did.

At first she thought she might have gone blind, for her eyes slid open to see nothing but white. Then she glanced around and discovered she was lying in a huge bed; the only strength she had was in her head and she slowly moved it to her right. She saw her shoulder, her arm, and part of her chest. She was wearing a white dress! She couldn't see it all, but she saw her sleeves went halfway to her elbows and were almost pleated. She could also see white roses all around her!

"Huh?" she groaned. She wasn't quite awake enough to form coherent sentences yet.

It was then that she noticed…she was alone.

_'Isn't anyone here?'_ she thought, as fear began to wrap its cold talons around her new heart. _'Where am I?'_

"Uuh!" she squeaked faintly. Tears crept into the corners of her eyes. She kept making noises like a frightened child until her terror overwhelmed her and she screamed with what little energy she had. She stopped when she heard footsteps to her left; a door flew open and someone ran in, whipped open the bed curtains, and stood over her with a freaked-out look on her face.

"Duck!" said the person. Duck gasped.

"Rue!" she spoke her first word and the tears spilled out in relief. Rue cleared away some of the flowers to sit on the bed and gently took Duck's face in her hands.

"Duck, you're awake!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe it! Are you all right?"

"Rue, what's going on?" Duck asked, "Where are we? Why can't I move? _How did I turn back into a girl?!"_

"Ssh," said Rue soothingly, "It's all right, Duck. Everything's all right. Just clam down and I'll explain everything."

* * *

While the princess told the newly awakened girl everything she knew, the prince they had once shared a love for was on his way back to his castle, flying over the golden fields of barley and rye, over the winding road that separated them, until he came across Clara's army. They were milling about in a confused fashion and were calling Uzura's name! Mytho smoothly descended.

"Soldiers of Clara," he asked in a commanding tone, "Why are you calling for Uzura? If your intention is to do her harm, know that I will stop you with all my power!" The soldier in blue approached him and bowed as low as his toy body would allow.

"My lord Prince," he said, "I am Captain Loys, commanding officer of the First Regiment."

"Speak, Captain," said Mytho, "Why do you search for my small friend? Has your mistress need of her?"

"If such was the case," said Loys, "we would indeed be in pursuit, arms at the ready. But there is something in her eyes that overpowers our loyalty to Mistress Clara. It is inexplicable but it grips us, nevertheless. If ever we find the puppet child again, my men and I will offer ourselves as her servants."

"Do you no longer serve Clara, then?" Mytho asked.

"No, lord prince," said the captain, "We have found a stronger bond of servitude. We now seek our new mistress—Mistress Uzura!"

"Mistress Uzura!" echoed the soldiers. Mytho smiled.

"Have no fear, Captain Loys," he said, "Your new mistress is on a journey and will return soon. In the meantime, I must hurry to my castle and defeat Clara before she does anyone harm. I advise you all to stay away from Clara. She'll seek to destroy you all once she learns of your desertion."

"We shall," said Loys, "but while we wait upon our mistress, is there any manner in which we may assist you?" Mytho thought for a moment.

"Actually," he said, "there is one thing you could do."

* * *

"After we found Clara, we told her what we wanted her to do," Rue explained, "I gave her an image of you from my memories and she used it to create your body."

"How did she do it?" Duck asked curiously.

"I don't know," Rue sighed, "Mytho gave her a room in the guest wing of his castle. Whatever she did, she did it in secret…with Raven's magic."

"What?" Duck's eyes widened, "Raven's magic?"

"I went to visit you today," said the princess, "I found a dagger on the floor with a Raven's feather engraved on it." She decided not to mention what Clara had been about to _do_ with that dagger. "Once we figured it out, we took your body from her and she attacked the castle. Mytho and I got you here, but he went back to fight her."

"But where are we?" said Duck.

"An enchanted tower," Rue smiled, "Mytho said his mother lived here before she met his father. It will protect us. You'll need it until you get your strength back. Speaking of which, I should make you something to eat."

"Rue," Duck interrupted, "Why did you and Mytho do all this for me?"

The princess looked at her for a moment.

"You gave us our dreams," she said with true humility, "We wanted to give you yours." Duck was floored and her eyes began to glisten.

"I'd hug you if I could," she smiled as the tears fell. Rue smiled back and gently hugged her.

* * *

Uzura tatted away on her drum as she sat in the bow of the boat Fakir was rowing. Autor kept a second lookout and Malen continued to sketch on her smaller pad that she always had with her in case of inspiration.

They had all agreed beforehand that, as artist of the story, Malen absolutely needed to keep her pad and pencils on hand, so she had a carrying bag with her that also held Fakir's manuscript.

Right now, she was sketching away on her pad with a look of intense concentration on her face; inspiration had struck again, and as we all know, Malen always obeyed her gift. The boys left her alone and continued with their own duties, watching for Uzura's ruby to show them that they were close to their destination.

"Stay close," said Fakir, "We're going into a fog." Autor scooted closer to Malen and held a lit lantern over her sketch pad; he saw what she was drawing and looked concerned.

"Uh-oh," he said, "Fakir?"

Both boys were peeking over her shoulders now, but she ignored them and managed to focus on her art. Fakir reached into her bag, grabbed his manuscript, and wrote some more.

"Arm yourself, Autor," he said, watching his pen.

"We don't have any weapons," Autor said seriously.

"We do now," Fakir pointed his pen under the seat in front of them. Autor fished around and pulled out a strung bow and a quiver full of arrows.

"I've always wanted to try archery," he mumbled with interest as he put the quiver on his back. He also found a brown-leather-sheathed sword with a black handle. "I suppose this is yours." He leaned it against Fakir's seat next to him.

"Thanks," the writer said, "Now put on the cloak, grab Uzura, and get down." Looking curious again, Autor reached under the seat again and pulled out a dark green hooded cloak! He shook his head.

"Your power amazes me, Fakir," he said as he donned it, "Come down, Uzura."

The puppet child stopped drumming and hopped down.

"What are you doing, zura?" she asked.

"We're heading into a foggy area," he answered, "There could be trouble."

"Trouble, zura?" she repeated. A tiny spark of white light fizzed in front of her face like a dying star and disappeared.

"Ohh!" she gasped, "What was that, zura?" Autor gathered her into his cloak.

"That's the trouble," he said grimly. Another light like the first one blinked in and out, and another and another until the air was full of tiny white lights.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fakir," said Malen, "It's my fault they're here." She showed him the picture she'd just finished of him and Autor fighting against the lights with their respective weapons.

"Don't worry about it," Fakir shook his head, "It's in the story."

It didn't take long for our heroes to see exactly why they were taking such precautions; soon enough, the tiny lights faded away to reveal themselves as smoky white fairies with wings like dragonflies. They didn't wear anything, but their bodies weren't detailed, either. They looked like they could have been wearing slim body suits.

"Mist pixies," Fakir called them, "No better than a will-o-the-wisp."

And he was right; no sooner did they reveal themselves than the Mist Pixies swarmed all around the boat like angry bees, giggling fiendishly as they attempted to confuse the young students and throw them off course. Autor shot an arrow into them, but to no effect.

"Save your arrows, Autor!" Fakir shouted above the noise as the boat turned in circles where it was, "It's no use!"

"Then what can we do?" he asked, shielding Uzura, "They'll capsize us!"

"Not if _I _can help it," Fakir replied, "Malen! See if you can draw me dancing with them!"

_"Dancing?"_ Autor repeated incredulously.

"I'll try!" Malen nodded, adjusted her glasses, and bent over her pad. Autor held the lantern for her while swatting the mischievous pixies away with his hand.

_Rip!_ A pixie laughed hysterically as it waved the little shred of paper it tore from the pad like a flag.

"Ah!" Malen cried out, "Stop that! Get away!"

"Here!" Autor took off his cloak, whipped it over her, and stuffed the lantern underneath with her. He then grabbed a fold of the cape and covered Uzura, then stood protectively in front of them with an arrow at the ready and his eye on Fakir.

The young writer stood at the prow in a ballet position: His right hand was raised straight up, his left arm out at the side, and his right foot was turned outward at the front with the left put back. It was similar to Mytho's grand pose from when he changed back into a prince. The pixies paused in their flurry, then some of them gathered into one body in front of the boat while the rest of them created a sort of dance floor. The first group created the shape of a normal-sized female, complete with wings. It was solid enough, but little more than a silhouette in looks. They seemed to have come to an understanding with Fakir, because when he leapt off the boat in his stag-like _grand-jete_, they allowed him to land solidly on their makeshift dance floor. Malen and Uzura poked their heads out from under the cape to see what was happening.

"What's he doing?" Malen asked. Autor knelt next to her.

"Speaking the only language pixies know," he answered, "He's going to dance us past them."

* * *

**Author's Review****:**  
The name Loys is the peasant alias for Albrecht, the prince from _Giselle_.

The Mist Pixies are my homage to the winter pixies from _Fantasia_. They're my favorite ones!

Question: Isn't "Dazed and Confused" the name of a movie or something? It sounded like one to me, hence the chapter title.

Next chapter goes back to what's happening in Mytho's kingdom, so stay tuned!


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